A Hero of Our Time

On the surface “A Hero of Our Time” is a selection of short fiction stories set against a backdrop of a wild, untamed region; the Caucasus. In this exotic location, Lermontov provides authenticity to the military and cultural peculiarities which existed between the tsarist Russian army officers and the “savage” ethnic mountaineer tribesmen. Central to each of the stories is the psychological state of its main character, Pechorin and his effect on those he emotionally targets.

In a relentless quest for power over everyone he meets in life, Pechorin’s purpose “is to bend to my will everyone and everything near me … o arouse in somebody love, devotion and fear – what is this but the first sign and the greatest triumph of power? ” (164-5).

Prior to the disclosure of Pechorin’s personal diaries, Lermontov provides a filtered version of Pechorin by the use of two narrators; an anonymous travelling narrator and Maxim Maxemich. The initial account of Pechorin in “Bela” is relayed through the eyes of Maxim who is fascinated by Pechorin.

Maxim is depicted as the archetypal old Russian captain, a compassionate man who generously describes Pechorin as “an excellent fellow, though a bit strange” (27).

Maxim’s friendship is rebuked when he meets Pechorin several years later in the story “Maxim Maxemich”. The narrator recounts that Maxim “was going to fall on Pechorin’s neck [and] Pechorin rather coldly offered him his hand … for a moment the captain was brought up short in amazement … ” (86). Although Maxim relays that he spent almost one year in Pechorin’s company he clearly does not comprehend the complicated facets of Pechorin’s personality.

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An irregular chronological sequence also functions to gradually expose Pechorin’s complex and intricate character to the reader.

The chronological order begins with the mystical story of “Taman”, the name of a coastal town on the Black Sea in which Pechorin is almost murdered. He travels through this town on his way from St. Petersburg to the Caucasus. In a linear sequence “Taman” would be followed by “Princess Mary”, “Bela”, “The Fatalist” and conclude with “Maxim Maxemich”. However, there is also another short but significant story, the “Introduction to Pechorin’s Journal” in which the reader becomes aware that the novel is relayed in this sequence because this is the order in which the travelling narrator becomes familiar with Pechorin.

In this prologue, the narrator assures the reader that Pechorin’s self-analysis is sincere. At the same time, he questions whether the characters portrayed in Pechorin’s journals can excuse his behaviour on the assumption that he did not subscribe to the same principles or philosophies in which society is bound – society will forgive and accept people if they are understood; “we are almost always ready to forgive what we can understand” (94).

This chapter also discloses that the narrator has not published all of Pechorin’s diaries and that there is an abundance of information which is omitted; “I have included in this book only matter which refers to Pechorin’s life in the Caucasus. There still remains in my hands a big note-book in which he tells the whole story of his life. … I do not dare, for several important reasons, to take the responsibility of publishing it” (94). The quote is intentionally ambiguous and allows the reader to deliberate on how Pechorin’s character may have otherwise evolved once he departed the Caucasus.

This statement also presented Lermontov with an option to further develop Pechorin’s character in later works. On a deeper level this novel provides a sociological and political perspective of Russia in the 1830’s; it offers an insight into the distinct ethnic divisions which existed during this period. In the introduction, Lermontov provides a hint of the conflicting philosophies which began to mark impending changes within Russia. He warns the reader that Pechorin is not just a study of a single individual, but a portrait “… rawn from the fully developed vices of our entire generation” (16).

The intellectual elite, aside from the dubious distinction of serving in the Russian military, had no meaningful role within Russian life and were in effect, superfluous. Similarly, Pechorin is depicted as an educated, wealthy individual, who has no clear purpose in Russian society – this is evident from his self-analysis; “my being has been corrupted by the world … nothing satisfies me; I get used to suffering just as easily as I do to enjoyment, and my life becomes more empty every day” (65).

Pechorin illustrates his unceasing pursuit for happiness which only exacerbates his boredom with life; “the moment I emerged from my family’s tutelage I rushed wildly into every sort of pleasure that money could buy; and naturally I soon tired of such pleasures … I quickly got bored with society… I got transferred to the Caucasus [but] within a month … I was more bothered by mosquitoes than by bullets” (63). Essentially, Pechorin is a metaphor for the frustrated, educated quasi-European which seemingly has no purpose in true Russian society.

In depicting this character as an example of Russian society’s ills, Lermontov notes that “the disease has been diagnosed, but how to eradicate it goodness alone knows! ” (17). Importantly, Lermontov consistently makes the ironic distinction between the stately, noble Russian and the uneducated, savage nationalities which existed in the mountainous Caucasus region. This is particularly apparent in the story of “Bela”. Lermontov conveys the typical Russian’s feelings of superiority over the mountaineer tribes when Maxim Maxemich passes judgement on them by commenting that “these Asiatics are miserable fellows … hey are terrible robbers … ” (21). Maxim further remarks that the Ossetes are “a stupid race, they know absolutely nothing and they can’t be educated … ” (24). Similarly, in an attempt to win over Bela’s affections Pechorin shows his disdain for the Chechen race when he arrogantly questions Bela; “You’re not in love with one of your own people, are you? ” (44).

Pechorin clearly considers himself the better person. Lermontov also physically differentiates between Pechorin and Kazbich. He describes Pechorin as “fair-haired … [with] a white, well-bred forehead … is moustache and eyebrows were black, a sign of breeding in a man” (84-5). By contrast, Kazbich is depicted as having “the most ruffianly appearance” (31) along with a “swarthy face [and a] ragged, dirty appearance” (61). However, instead of portraying Kazbich as the savage murderer and Pechorin as the noble hero, Lermontov implies that the two men have in fact treated Bela in an identical manner and that there is no moral difference between them. Kazbich physically kills Bela, but Pechorin has already destroyed her on a moral level – socially and culturally.

In fact, there is a subtle inference that Kazbich in an ethical way is the more admirable man as he has sought revenge based on his strict cultural sense of right and wrong. On the other hand, Pechorin ruthlessly exploits and destroys Bela when he kidnaps her with no intention of marriage. In complete contrast to “Bela”, Lermontov departs from the wilderness of the remote Russian fort and into the aristocratic spa region of Piatigorsk, where Pechorin is based whilst on military leave.

In short, the story unfolds as Pechorin meets Grushnitzki and prophetically declares; “Nor do I care for him; I have a feeling that we shall one day meet on a narrow path, and that it will fare ill with one of us” (119). The relationship between Pechorin, Grushnitzki, Vera and Princess Mary become emotionally entangled. Further, Pechorin’s calculated manoeuvres ensure that he emotionally seduces Mary and makes Grushnitzki look foolish. In the background is Vera, a former lover, now married but again willing to be seduced by Pechorin.

The climax of this story is the duel in which Pechorin kills Grushnitzki; “when the smoke cleared off, Gurshnitzki was not on the plateau. At the edge of the precipice there was only a slight column of dust to be seen. Everyone screamed simultaneously” (221). There are also another two important incidents which occur in “Princess Mary” and provide the reader with different facets of Pechorin’s character. The first is in the form of his self-analytical “confession” to Mary; “Everyone read in my face the signs of bad qualities which were not there at the time, though they came into being by suggestion.

I was shy and was accused of craftiness; so I became secretive. I had a deep sense of good and evil, but nobody showed me kindness or treated me decently; so I became bitter and spiteful. … And then despair was born in me, not of the kind that can be cured only by a bullet, but a cold, feeble despair, which hides itself under kindliness and an amiable smile” (168-9). This speech is a turning point in the novel as the reader is persuaded to speculate on and sympathise with Pechorin’s character, however, rather than a genuine expression of his feelings, it is another tactic to influence control over Mary.

This is evidenced by the preface to his dialogue in which Pechorin “thought for a minute and then said, [pretending] to be deeply touched … ” (168). Clearly Pechorin is acting out a role and at the end of the dialogue he admits that he “did not continue [his] pathetic soliloquy … ” (170). Further, his analysis of Mary’s reaction to him is that “she is dissatisfied with herself and accuses herself of being cold. Tomorrow she will want to reward me. I know it all by heart. That’s why it is so boring” (171).

The second incident takes place when Pechorin receives a farewell letter from Vera letting him know that their affair was discovered by her husband and she has to leave Piatigorsk immediately; “I prayed, cursed, wept, laughed … nothing expressed the wild agitation of my despair ” (225). Pechorin tries to see Vera once more but his exhausted horse falls and Pechorin similarly collapses into the grass. As he lay there he “wept bitterly not trying to keep back my tears and the sobs that tore my chest. All my hardness and coolness had vanished like smoke. If anyone had seen me then he would have turned from me in contempt” (226).

Unlike the earlier passage, this is an honest and unrestrained outpouring of emotion which humanises Pechorin. Furthermore, throughout the novel Lermontov demonstrates yet another facet of Pechorin’s character by illustrating his enchantment with nature. The descriptions of the panoramic landscapes which form the backdrop to the Caucasus are essential in providing an authenticity to the novel. Nature is depicted in a surreal form and a striking example of this is apparent when Pechorin, on his way to face Grushnitzki in a duel and all his senses stimulated, pronounces; I never remember[ed] a morning that was so blue or fresh. … the mingling of the first warmth of [the sun’s] rays with the cold of the dying night induced in all my senses a delicious languor. … At the lightest breath of wind thick bushes that grew in the crevices sprinkled us with silver drops. … How eagerly I watched every dew-drop quivering on the broad vine-leaves and reflecting countless rays of rainbow light! ” (209-10). For Pechorin, nature is an antidote to the world of civilisation – completely removed from St Petersburg society.

Lermontov’s style ensures that he utilises various graphic devices in his depiction of nature. One of these devices is his generous use of colours including silver and gold to accentuate brilliance and richness. The descriptions of the sublime scenery swiftly situate the reader into a breathtaking setting; “On every side there were inaccessible mountains, reddish rocks grown over with green ivy and crowned with rows of plane-trees, yellow precipices scored with ravines and, high, high up, a fringe of snow, golden in the sunset.

Below, the Aragva united with a nameless stream, forced its way with a roar from a black, misty gorge, and lay there, a silver thread, with shining, snake-like coils” (19). Snakes, clouds and mist are also consistently used to depict movement and an example of this is highlighted at the beginning of the novel; “A pale moon was shining in the west, about to go behind some black clouds which hung over the distant peaks, like tattered curtains. … the pale glow in the east spread over the purple heavens, lighting up gradually the steep mountain slopes covered with virgin snow.

On either side were dark, mysterious chasms into which the mist whirled and writhed like a snake, creeping along crevices of rock, as though it felt and feared the coming of day” (49). As a concluding chapter to the novel, “A Fatalist” is unquestionably appropriate. Although not the chronological conclusion, this chapter nevertheless, plays the role of the novel’s epilogue and it is not surprising that “predestination” or “fate” provides the theme to this story.

The opposing forces of free will versus fate preface several incidents in which one of the characters, Vulich tempts fate by attempting to kill himself with a loaded gun, however the gun does not fire and he escapes death only to be murdered later that night by a drunk Cossack soldier. Uncharacteristically Pechorin performs a heroic deed and also tests fate by disarming the murderer at great risk to himself. Although Pechorin is uncertain of his attitude towards fate, he is convinced that “fatalism” does not subdue a person into pursuing a passive existence, rather it makes one’s character even more decisive and courageous as he remarks; After all this, how can I help being a fatalist? And yet, how can a man tell whether he is sincerely convinced or not? We so often mistake for genuine conviction the imposture of our emotions or the blundering of our judgement. I like to have doubts about everything, a propensity which does not preclude determination. On the contrary, so far as I am concerned, I can always go forward more resolutely when I know what to expect. After all, nothing can happen worse than death, and death cannot be avoided” (246).

The irony of this story is that although Pechorin is not entirely convinced about fatalism, Maxim, whilst not fully realising its meaning,ostensibly believes in fate. Once Pechorin relays the story of Vulich and explains the significance of the word “predestination”, Maxim notably exclaims, “Yes it was bad luck on the poor fellow. But what devil made him talk to a drunken Cossack at night? Well, obviously, it must have been written at his birth” (247).